Not a Golden Boy
by The Silver Muse
Summary: Harry's changed. Snape finds out just how much.
1. No Longer Golden

Welcome to the story, and please enjoy it!

Remember that none of this is mine, I own the plot only.

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Chapter One:  No Longer Golden

It was a dark night. The moon was void and even the stars hid behind the wispy clouds.  It was an absolutely perfect night, as far as Harry Potter was concerned. He knew the invisibility cloak hid him from the outside world, but he felt better knowing the darkness was there too. It was oddly comforting; to know he could just slip away like this, under cover of cloak and night.

Harry waited until he was inside the Forbidden Forest before he removed the cloak. He folded it carefully and put it inside the trunk of a particularly gnarled tree. Not that he thought anyone would steal it, but Harry didn't want to lose such a precious thing as his cloak. It was the only thing he had that his father had touched, had worn. Harry wondered if his father ever found the little lake inside the forest that Harry now visited regularly.

Harry had found an interesting spell about three months ago that aloud him to create a perfect replica of himself. It had seemed kind of useless at the time, and Harry had almost closed the book containing it. What good was a replica that couldn't move or talk? 

But then Harry had thought of a trick he once pulled on the Dursleys.  It was one every kid pulled at some point; the one where you stuff a bunch of pillows in your bed to make it look like you were still there. Well, hell. A replica is way better and far more convincing than a pillow. So right now, if Ron or Seamus or whoever woke up for some reason, it would look like Harry was sleeping peacefully in his bed; like he was supposed to be.

Harry no longer cared what he was supposed to be doing. He sat at the edge of the tiny forest lake, staring out at the water that somehow reflected light on a moonless night. The surface was perfectly still; it looked almost like polished glass.

Not that Harry cared; he was here simply because it was secluded. No one was ever here; no one had been here even once during the three months since Harry had started visiting.

Harry's lips twisted into a wry sort of smile when he thought of what people would do if they knew_ why_ he was here. They'd be shocked to think that sweet, innocent Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, defeater of the worst dark wizard ever known, had been defeated himself.

Oh yes. Harry was the Boy Who Lived And Won to every witch or wizard on the planet. 

But to Harry himself, he was only the boy who wanted very much to be left alone. He had done his duty, finished his destiny. Voldemort was gone and the Death Eaters either dead or safely in Azkaban, with only themselves and the vile dementors for company.

Harry had done all this, and still they pestered him. He was a permanent celebrity; every bit of his life seemed to fascinate the world. As a sixteen-year-old boy, Harry figured he should be delighted.

And yet… there was something indefinable in Harry. A deep emptiness that, try as he might, Harry couldn't understand. He should be happy with the knowledge that he could finally face his last year and a half of Hogwarts safely; that's his friends would be safe go on with their lives. Harry was free to play quidditch without any deeper concern than where to find the snitch. He could go out to Diagon Alley with his friends and not be on the alert for a surprise attack.

This should make him happy. Harry _knew_ this should make him happy. He tried, he really did, but there was nothing.

Nobody noticed, which should have bothered him. Harry thought about how the Daily Prophet was _still writing stories about him, every thing he did that seemed even remotely interesting showed up in the news. And yet no one noticed that the light was gone from his eyes. _

Harry reacted to things the way people expected him to, laughing at jokes he knew he should find funny, or pretending to be angry when Malfoy and his cronies tried to annoy him. Harry didn't do this because he wanted to spare his friends, he did it because there was no reason not to. It didn't matter to him_. Nothing mattered to him._

Harry had first come out to this lake to have time alone, thinking that perhaps if he could just get away from it all he would find out what was doing this to him. All sorts of strange ideas flitted through Harry's thoughts. A spell, a curse, was it someone else who made Harry feel this way? Some Death Eater who escaped, maybe?

These thoughts had been brushed away, whatever it was, it was in Harry: _from_ Harry. 

So now Harry came out to the lake to force himself to feel something. Even if it was something as trivial as pain. It would do for now. Harry took his wand from his pocket and said one of the spells he was now using:

"Incendio." 

Harry was skilled enough to control his power, so only a tiny flame appeared at the end of his wand. Not much more than you would find on a candle, Harry noticed.

He held out his hand, just over the flame; watching expressionlessly as the smoke started to stain his fingers black.

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Snape was restless. It was night and the moon was void. There was no point in him trying to start any new potions, since magic of any kind seemed to diminish under the void moon. Potions in particular could have strange side effects for no reason; something as harmless as not functioning, or something as disastrous as exploding suddenly. 

So Snape was doing something few people knew he was capable of. Astral projecting was a skill he had learned early, as a second year student. It wasn't something usually taught at Hogwarts, but the divination teacher then was quite skilled. 

Nothing like Trelawney, Snape thought. His lip curled; his opinion of the currant divination teacher was just slightly above his opinion of a nasty insect. Trelawney was a parasite, a quack. Not that Snape was in any way rude to Sibyl.  He was polite to her, as he was; well, as he tried to be to all fellow teachers. 

There are just some scars that don't heal. Being a former death eater was one of them, even if that blasted mark had disappeared when Voldemort was killed. 

Snape shook his head, cursing himself for getting distracted by errant thoughts. He settled into his favorite armchair and began the crystal count down. 

Red seven, orange six, yellow five, green four, light blue three, dark blue two, violet one.

Snape felt himself enter the alpha state, his whole body relaxing. 

It wasn't really necessary to enter alpha to astral project, but it made things easier; not to mention minimizing the risk of something jarring Snape back into his body. 

Speaking of which, Snape lifted himself up out of the chair. He cast a brief glance over his shoulder, satisfied to see his body resting peacefully, before he floated up through the stone walls of Hogwarts dungeons. He passed by sleeping slytherin students, corridors and classrooms. 

Snape paused outside the ravenclaw dormitory, considering for a moment the possibility of going inside. The things he saw when he projected, and he had often overheard students insulting him, always interested Snape. He often saw other, activities, as well. Students either in pairs, or sometimes triples, Snape thought with a mental grin of the time he had floated across the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan in the gryffindor showers. Snape was not naturally a voyeur, but he had learned to enjoy such occurrences when they presented themselves. There were precious few times when he was able to participate, and this was the next best thing.   
  


Snape decided against it. He wasn't really in the mood for such things tonight. Perhaps there would be something to capture his interest outside. 

Snape floated out past the great hall and the entrance to the castle, until he stopped above the school grounds. He took a minute to appreciate the near total darkness around him. Had he been looking through his eyes Snape would hardly have been able to see Hagrid's hut from the stone stairway, but in astral form everything was illuminated by auras. 

Snape was distracted from his thoughts by a sudden movement at the edge of the forest. 

Snape moved to hide himself, an almost sub-conscious reflex to hide, when he remembered he couldn't be seen.

Curiously, he floated over to the form that was making its way slowly across the grounds.

Well, well, Harry Potter. Snape felt he shouldn't even be surprised; Harry was always breaking the rules. Snape couldn't even punish him for it this time, or he would risk his ability becoming public knowledge. Right now only Dumbledore knew, and Snape intended it to stay that way.

Curious, this was very strange indeed. There was something odd about Harry's aura. It wasn't as vivid as it should be, for one thing. Snape would have thought that the boy with enough energy to destroy Voldemort would have a vibrantly colorful aura, but Harry's looked more like a weak northern lights display. 

The distribution of energy was strange as well. Harry's hands and arms seemed to have localized bright spots. Snape glanced at the boy's face, but it held only a detached determination.

This was so strange. This was hardly typical at all. 

Snape followed Harry into the castle, up several staircases. He waited with the boy while one stairway leisurely shifted position, and he stopped when Harry did outside the gryffindor dormitory. 

"Ferula Medico." 

If Snape had been manifesting right then his jaw would have dropped. Why would Harry Potter need to use such a strong healing spell? What on earth was wrong with the boy?

The bright spots in Harry's aura diminished, until only a weak afterimage of them remained.

"Scuttle bug." 

Snape was confused for an instant, until he realized this must be the current password to the gryffindor rooms.

The portrait of the Fat Lady mumbled something about annoying insects, before swinging open to allow Harry access to his dorm. 

Snape watched the painting swing shut again, and floated past it after a moments thought. Those bright aura marks, they must have been injuries. 

Perhaps the boy had gotten into a fight. Snape considered checking the slytherin dormitory to see if Draco was in a similar state, but decided against it.

He floated with Harry past the common room, up yet another staircase, and into a five-bed room. 

Unbelievable. 

Harry was definitely spending time in the restricted section of the library, no sixth year student should know about the replica spell. Not that it was in any way dangerous; the professors had restricted the spell because it encouraged students to break the rules.

Which was something Harry was obviously doing.

Snape watched as the boy flicked his wand at the simulacrum of himself, and saw the bedcovers flatten as the mass disappeared. This was a talent, to learn a spell that difficult one your own, and to become proficient in it without alerting anyone. 

Snape expected nothing less from the famous Harry Potter, although he'd slit his own throat before admitting it.

Snape saw Harry put away the invisibility cloak he'd worn outside and slip out of his school robes. Snape watched, fascinated. He wasn't embarrassed in the least, to be watching a student undress. It harmed no one to watch, and Snape was curious to see what quidditch had done to the young seekers body.

Harry was thin, but solid. Lithe was the word that entered Snape's mind. He was actually quite attractive. Then Harry let the robes fall completely, giving Snape a view of something he had _not_ expected to see.

Scars. Snape got only a brief glimpse before Harry pulled on his pajamas, but what he saw startled him. There was a long scar from what had to have been a bad wound, along Harry's side.

Snape remembered that one. Pettigrew had slashed Harry before Snape killed him, but why hadn't the boy gotten Pomphrey to remove the scar? 

There were others, from what little Snape could see of Harry's back. Little ones and medium sized ones, none of them new. Some of them looked years old. 

Surely the boy had never displayed the level of clumsiness Neville Longbottom had, so where did they come from? They had not happened at the school, or Dumbledore would be aware of them. So they must have happened before Harry came to Hogwarts, or perhaps during the summer holidays.

Snape decided he was too tired, and it was none of his business anyway. He drifted away from the gryffindor dorms, moving faster and faster through the school until he reached his own rooms. He slipped back into his body and opened his eyes slowly.

There was a slight ache in his neck; Snape rolled his shoulders to be rid of it.

His mind was full of Potter. Questions he wanted answers to; Snape had to remind himself that he wasn't the head of the boy's house; it really wasn't any of his business if Harry was having problems.

Besides, Snape didn't like Harry, in fact he _hated_ the brat. Didn't he?

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I hope you like it, more will be coming soon. I'm working on this story as well as Waiting No Longer, so updates will probably be erratic. Tell me what you think!

The Silver Muse 


	2. Changes

I woke slowly. I didn't move my head or sit up, just opened my eyes. I raised my hand slowly until I was looking directly at my fingers. I just lay there, reflecting on last night. I had burnt them, until my fingernails blackened. I had cut my arms with a rock I'd sharpened magically.

It had hurt, oh yes, it had hurt _beautifully_. I smiled slightly, grateful for the reminder that I could still feel something as normal as pain. That spell, the medical one I had read about, worked perfectly, so there wasn't a mark on me. My hands were as smooth as ever, as were my arms.

"What are you smiling about?" Ron asked sleepily from his bed. He's just woken up, and was rubbing his eyes. "It's too early to be cheerful." Ron continued, grumbling.

"I just slept well, that's all." I said. Ron raised his eyebrows.

"Oh? Had a pleasant dream, did you?"

I blushed, making Ron laugh.

"You have a dirty mind, Ron." I told him, throwing off my covers and putting my legs over the side of the bed.

"Yeah Ron. Is that all you think about?" Seamus threw in from his bed.

There was a rustling of covers and the curtains to Dean's bed opened.

"I'm surprised you haven't been sneaking into the girls rooms, since you're always so _interested." Dean smirked at Ron's blush._

Colin ws sitting up against his pillows, reading a book. He'd evidently been up for awhile.

"I can vouch for the fact that Harry slept like a rock. I got up after midnight for some water, and he absolutely motionless."

I felt a twinge of worry, just slightly. Did Colin suspect what I'm doing? No, he was just making conversation.

Ron turned on Colin, happy to have a target other than him.

"And what were you doing looking at Harry while he was sleeping? Just how much time did you spend watching him?" Ron teased. 

Colin was blushing now worse than anyone, and everyone but me started laughing, throwing pillows towards Colin. The boy shrieked in mock terror and hid behind his book.

I grinned; I couldn't help myself. Humor is contagious, and I'm not immune. Besides, if I allowed myself to grin then maybe no one would notice I haven't truly laughed in quite some time.

"Come on guys, we'd better hurry. We don't want to miss breakfast." I said.

"Or class." Colin added, inspiring another round of pillows thrown at him.

The boys crowded into the showers, joined by gryffindors of various years. Some people were jostling and teasing each other, while others simply stood under the water looking mostly asleep. Very few people were using the separate shower stalls; most students didn't care about showering in groups.

It was a weird quirk of mine that my friends had learned to accept. They seemed to attribute my shyness to growing up with an unpleasant (they didn't know the _half of it!) muggle family._

I just accepted greetings from various boys as I walked fully clothed past them, and slipped into a stall on my own.

There was no need to bother my friends by letting them see my scars. They'd only get all worried and pepper me with unanswerable questions.

I met up with Hermione and Ron again in the common room. Almost everyone else had already gone for breakfast.

"Honestly Harry, you spend more time getting ready for a day than most of us girls." Hermione told me as we left the dormitories.   

"It just takes me longer to wake up. Not everyone can be as alert as you." I teased.

"Well they should be."

Ron rolled his eyes, but I could see he was grinning.

The great hall was as crowded as ever. Students laughed and talked among themselves, eating leisurely. Since it was breakfast, there was no waiting for the meals, you just told the menu what you wanted and it appeared. It was easier that way.

I sat down beside Seamus: Ron and Hermione were sitting on his other side.

"Morning Harry." Seamus said, taking a bite out of something indescribable.

"Morning, Seamus. What _are_ you eating?" It looked like a pancake that someone else had already eaten at least once.

Dean grinned at me from Seamus' other side. 

"He's having a surprise dish."

I stared.

"For breakfast? Are you mad? You don't even know what's in those things!" I said loudly.  

"I doubt even the house-elves know what's in those things." Hermione commented.

Colin winked at Dean before saying: "I heard the bits of meat are mice and rats they find from around the school."

Seamus stopped chewing, staring at his friends in horror.

"It makes sense. How else would they keep down the rodent population?" Dean says agreeably.

Seamus shrugged. He'd caught on to the joke by now.

"Ah well." He said dramatically. "Rats can be very nutritious."  

Ron was glaring in an amused way at his classmates.

"That's really gross you guys. Some of us are trying to eat real food over here."

"Don't worry, Ron. Rats carry too much disease, Dumbledore wouldn't let us eat them." Hermione was being her usual matter-of-fact self.

"Spoilsport." Colin told her.

I was listening to all this without really hearing it.  I looked around the great hall, not really seeing anything. It felt almost like being in a play, where you know your lines so well they become automatic, but you're still detached.

I realized I was staring at my knife absently. I rolled it around in my fingers, thinking about how it would feel to cut just slightly into my own flesh.

I didn't even notice when my friends fell silent; until a familiar voice sounded right behind me.

"Potter,"

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I was aware the entire gryffindor table was watching me silently, and I kept my posture severe. Potter was sitting at the table looking lost in thought, twirling a table knife between his fingers. I wondered why the boy was looking at the utensil with such a strange expression. 

            "Potter." I said again, growing irritated. The boy seemed to finally realize I was there, because he set down the knife and turned his head.

"Professor Snape." It wasn't a question, more of a statement acknowledging my presence.

            "I trust you're ready for today's quidditch match. I know Mr. Malfoy has been talking about it for days." I let my lips curl into my usual sneer, all the while watching Potter's reactions closely. I had to know…

            "I am, of course. Is that all?" There were gasps from Potter's friends. They couldn't believe he had just _dismissed_ the feared potions master. So. Something really was going on with the boy. 

            "I should give you detention for that, Mr. Potter. Impertinence like that cannot be allowed." I kept my voice controlled and dangerous. I could see other gryffindors shifting nervously, trying not to stare. Longbottom wasn't even trying to be subtle. He watched the exchange with a horrified expression, his forgotten spoon dripping milk onto his lap.

            "Why don't you, then." Potter said. Again it was a statement. He sounded calm; his green eyes were aloof. Now most of the gryffindor table was openly gaping at him, and some of the students from other tables were listening in.

            Despite my earlier worry I almost snarled. No student was allowed to speak to me that way, especially not Harry Potter! 

            "Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter. I'll see you in the dungeons at six sharp."

I hissed. I whirled around, my black cloak billowing behind me as I stalked out of the great hall.

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"Good lord, Harry." Colin says weakly, watching the retreating figure of Professor Snape.

I ignore him.

"That was absolutely priceless!" Fred crows, slapping me on the back. "Did you see the greasy gits face?" George and Lee are grinning wildly. Neville is still staring at me. I shoot him a glare that makes him quickly look away, wiping up his spilt breakfast.

"That was completely irresponsible!" Hermione says. "You're lucky Snape only took twenty points."

I sigh.

 "You didn't all expect me to stay scared of that bastard forever, did you?" I ask.

"Of course not." Ron tells me hastily. "Just be sure he doesn't use an unforgivable on you tonight." It is only half teasing, but I look thoughtful.

_Crucio_. The word rolls around in my mind. Hmm…

"I'm going to class." I say suddenly. I stand up, not waiting for my friends to follow.

"See you there." Ron and Hermione chorus together.

I make my way towards the door, but find myself blocked off. 

Draco Malfoy is standing in my way, his two sidekicks Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him, grinning foolishly. 

For a moment no one speaks. I stare impassively into the silvery eyes of the pale blonde in front of me, refusing to back down. Nor does Draco look away.

"You think you're brave, Potter?" Draco sneers. "Standing up to Snape? Does it make you feel more important?" 

I say nothing, but I begin to get angry.

"Ready to lose at quidditch, Potter? You have a few more hours to wait, you should practice." So insulting, Draco is always insulting.

"Malfoy." I say quietly, dangerously. I keep the anger out of my voice with only minimal effort. Draco is just a stupid, childish boy, hardly worth getting mad at.

Something in my tone makes both Crabbe and Goyle shift nervously, but Draco's eyes flare.

"Aw, is Potter going to do something?" Draco sneers again. It is really quite annoying. 

I take a step forward, until I'm just a hand span away from Draco. I don't touch him; don't yell. I lower my voice.

"You are a sad, arrogant, twisted, _spoiled_ little boy, Malfoy. Don't mess with me. I am no longer the goody little gryffindor you used to kick around." 

Draco's eyes are wide with disbelief, and both Crabbe and Goyle are backing slowly away.

I take the opportunity to raise my hand to Malfoy's jaw. I run a single finger down his throat, no pressure, just tracing a line down his neck.

"I have no problem giving back all the pain you've ever given me, Draco. All at once."

Draco shows fear for the first time. He's beginning to realize that I've changed, he isn't sure when, but it happened somehow. There is a predatory look in my eyes that reminds Draco of his father; and that frightens him more than he dares show.

Draco backs away, shaking his head. I sweep past him without giving him a second glance. 

Draco looks at Crabbe and Goyle, the only other students to hear what I've said. 

"Call a meeting after this class." Draco says hoarsely. Crabbe nods, his face for once losing the perpetual look of stupidity. He understands. The slytherin have to meet, to discuss this strange new development. 

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There it is, everyone. The second chapter. I hope you like it. 

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I love you all! ^-^

The Silver Muse


	3. The Accident

Thanks to those of you who pointed out the various mistakes in my story. Please try to remember this was one of my first stories ever, I didn't know much. Just ignore any inconsistencies. 

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The day passes swiftly. I go to all my classes, take notes and transfigure a throw pillow into a poodle. McGonagall is so impressed at my improvement in her class that she awards back the twenty points I lost earlier.

I curse myself as I leave for the potions room. I hadn't been paying attention, and when McGonagall told the class to make a poodle from a mouse, I'd done it without pausing to think. 

_Damn, Damn. Mustn't show too much power._

 Ron and Hermione are trailing behind me, chattering about, whatever they are always chatting about. It doesn't bother me: as long as I'm not expected to add much to the conversation.

The dungeons are as unpleasant as always, although I find I'm beginning to like them. They are dark, musty, and ominous. Somehow this accents my mood perfectly.

I pause outside the classroom to admire the stone walls of the corridor. 

"Aren't you coming in, Harry?" Hermione asks. "You can't skip."

"Don't worry about it, Snape can't really do anything bad to you." Ron says, thinking I'm afraid to enter the classroom.

I stare in disbelief.

"That's hardly something I'm worried about." I tell Ron as we take our seats. There are only a few other students here already. All of them are Gryffindor, and none look too enthusiastic about the class.

I concentrate on preparing my notes for class, ignoring the Slytherin and other students as the come into the room. If the Gryffindor look unhappy, the Slytherin look positively somber. They file in silently, and take their places behind the Gryffindor students. Most of them don't look anywhere but their desks, but Draco is watching me with a calculating look.

Neville is the last one to enter the room, followed almost immediately by Professor Snape.

"I trust you all finished your assignment? Three feet about the properties, history, and ingredients of a Fey Drink?"

The students stare at Snape. Snape stares back, looking exasperated.

"Well? Why aren't you handing it in?" He demands. The students from both houses scramble to drop their parchment on Snape's desk. I sauntered up and placed my essay beside the pile, staring directly into Snape's eyes before returning to my seat.

"Now that that's finally done, I want you all to prepare a Snare potion. Do it on your own, with no partners. That means leave Longbottom alone, Miss Granger." Snape sneers.

Hermione turns pink. She has been helping Neville in potions for some time, taking pity on the boy and trying to help him escape Snape's wrath. 

"In fact, Mr. Longbottom, I think I'll place you elsewhere. Take the seat next to Mr. Poter. Mr. Weasley, you take Longbottom's seat." 

Ron and Neville shift places. Neville is pale and obviously worried.

"Get to it." Snape commands. The students start pulling out their cauldrons and ingredients. I don't bother looking at Neville; the boy will have to do this on his own.

I am about half way done when I notice that Neville's potion is turning a strange, angry looking orange color. A Snare potion is supposed to be a forest green color. 

I watch as Neville adds a mushroom to the boiling mass. A mushroom? There 

were no mushrooms in a Snare Potion!

The orange liquid begins to hiss, drawing the attention of the class to Neville. He is staring at his cauldron, looking horrified and unable to move.

I know what is about to happen. Snape does too, and he is already on his way.

"Longbottom, what in Merlin's name are…"

"Neville, MOVE!" I yell. I know Neville is too scared, so I'm already launching myself at the smaller boy. I hit Neville just as Snape reaches us, and then the cauldron explodes, filling the room with orange smog.

There are students everywhere, coughing and trying to clear the air.

Fortunately the smoke seems to be disappearing in on itself, and it is only a few minutes before it is gone completely. 

Neville is out cold, laying a good five feet away where I knocked him.

Snape and I are both sprawled on the ground. I'm half over Snape, my leg across his knees, and my chest on his navel.

It takes a minute for Snape to realize what position we're in, and he shoves me away.

"Get off me, Potter." He snarls. I feel a twinge of embarrassment. Interesting.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Ron is asking. I sit up, looking bewildered but okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Professor?" Millicent asks; sounding concerned. Snape shakes his head.

"I'm not hurt." Snape looks over at Neville and stands up, brushing the dust off his robes.

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I had just reached Neville when a pain unlike anything I have ever felt raced through me. Somewhere behind me Harry cries out. I doubled over, falling back towards him. Harry scrambles over to where I am, his face drawn. The pain vanishes. 

"What the hell?" Harry asks, looking confused and angry.

I'm feeling much the same. Something is really wrong. Why the hell am I thinking of them in first names?!

"What happened?!" Ron, (_Weasley, dammit!) asks urgently. _

"I don't know, but it hurt." Harry (_Potter, just Potter_!) answers.

"Something of an understatement, Mr. Potter." I somehow managed to sound fierce, even though I'm beginning to understand what was going on. Oh bloody hell. 

"Professor?" Draco asks. He recognizes the signs, and it horrifies him.

"Leave it, Mr. Malfoy." I say harshly. Draco looks startled, but he stays silent.

"Mobiliarmus." I say, pointing my wand at Neville (_Oh, forget about it, I'll figure it out later_). He floats up into the air, still unconscious.

"Follow me, Potter. The rest of you are dismissed." I tell the class. Instead of cheering, everyone just stars as Harry and I walk out of the room, Neville floating behind us.

"Are we going to the infirmary?" Harry asks. _Idiot._

"Where else. Do you have any idea what Longbottom has done to us?" I keep my voice controlled, but I'm really seething.

"Whatever it was, it hurt." 

"Brilliant observation, Potter. Trust me, it gets worse."

I know I'm being vague, but I don't care. If I'm right I will have a lot of time to explain myself.

_Oh hell. Don't be right,_ please_ don't be right._

The infirmary is empty, usually a good sign. I float Neville over to a cot and leave him there.

"Poppy, are you here?" I call. I walk back over to Harry. The boy is staring at me with an amused look.

            "What's your problem?" I ask irritably. Harry smiles slightly.

"I don't often hear you call people by their first names." He says.

I snort.

"Why are you standing there?" Harry asks. I can almost hear his extended thought. _why__ are you standing so close to me?_

            "Such a short memory, Potter. Don't tell me you've forgotten what happened the last time I moved away?" I ask sarcastically. I expect the boy to get angry or look defensive, but Harry only looks thoughtful.

            Before I can stop him Harry walks quite deliberately away. He covers the space in only two steps, and I feel the pain shoot through me. I groan, and hear Harry whimper. I'm beside Harry and grabbing his arm before the boy can move again.

            "What the _hell _is wrong with you, Potter?" I hiss, tugging his arm. I'm disturbed by the look in Harry's eyes. I see pity and sadness: and something else, something indefinable and infinitely disturbing.

Poppy walks in just then.

"Severus, Harry? What are you doing in here? Don't you have a class?" The medi-witch looks confused.

I point at Neville.

            "Longbottom managed to blow up yet another cauldron." I say in a disgusted tone of voice.

"Ahh." Poppy walks over to Longbottom's cot, and starts checking him over. She turns back to Harry and I.

"He doesn't seem to have any injuries other than a lump on the back of his head. Was he thrown by the explosion?"

Harry looks somewhat embarrassed.

"Actually, that was me. I tried to knock him away, so he wouldn't get hurt. I guess I hit him too hard."

Poppy nods.

"Don't fret, Harry. You did the right thing."  She turns back to Neville and points her wand at him.

"Enervate." She says. He opens his eyes and tries to sit up, falling back to the bed with a wince.

"Don't try moving until you drink this." Poppy orders, taking a vial from a nearby cart. It holds a soft blue liquid. Neville drinks it gratefully.

"Thanks." He tells Poppy. Then he sees Harry and I. 

"Oh, Professor! Did you get hurt too? I'm so sorry!" Neville is babbling and Harry rolls his eyes. 

"It's not your concern anymore, Longbottom." I say icily. Poppy raises an eyebrow. 

"You're clear to go, Neville." She says quickly. "Try not to hurt yourself again today."

He hops off the cot and is out the door before I can say anything more. 

"You certainly didn't have to tell him twice." Harry observes. Poppy grins.

"He's a regular here, he knows the drill." She tells him. She struggles to look serious. "Now, Severus. Seriously, are you hurt? Or you, Harry?"

I see her looking pointedly at our arms, and I let go of Harry quickly.

"I'm not sure, exactly." I say. "Depends on if you have any mandrake handy." 

Poppy raised another eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Longbottom was attempting to make a Snare Potion, and he somehow managed to create a Link Potion instead. It exploded when I reached Potter. Potter and I must have been touching at the time, because the damn stuff got us."

Poppy's eyes go wide. Harry is watching the exchange curiously.

"You mean?" 

I nod miserably.

"Now we're stuck with each other. Unless you can mix up the antidote." 

Poppy does her best not to giggle, and after a minute she manages to say with a straight face:

"I'm sorry, Severus. I can't get any mandrake for at least a month. Now, wait," She warns when she notices I am about to speak. "It won't be all that bad."

"Not that bad?! Not only am I stuck to someone for at least a month, that someone is _Harry Potter_!!" I explode.

I realize Harry has been silent up until now.

"Don't you get what's happened here, Potter? We have to stick together for a _month?"_

Harry regards me with a cool gaze.

"So?"

I'm flabbergasted. _So?__ So?! _

"That's all you can say?!" I demand. Harry shrugs.

"What else is there to say? It's obvious we this can't be helped, so why get mad?"

I'm horribly annoyed because I know damn well Harry's right.

"Mad? No, I'm not mad." I say dangerously. I bar my teeth. "I'm going to find Longbottom and quite calmly roast him alive."

"Now, Severus. How do you expect to do that?" Dumbledore (_I guess he'll always be Dumbledore to me_) asks, coming through the doors of the infirmary. His eyes twinkle above his grin. "I imagine it will be difficult learning to move so quickly at first. Perhaps just a bit easier than a three legged race."

I glare. How dare the old man find this _funny_? And how did he get here so quickly?

Okay, maybe it is a little funny. But just a little. _Mustn't ever say that out loud…_

I start to cool off. I close my eyes and silently count to three before I can breathe normally again.

"All right. I concede that there is nothing to be done but wait. That does _not _mean I have to like it."

"Of course." Dumbledore says merrily. 

"Professor? How is this going to work? What about classes?" Harry asks, speaking finally. He adds almost as an after thought: "Where will we sleep?"

It hit's me then that I will probably have to share a bed with this annoying brat, not to mention everything else. Bloody hell, probably have to share a shower!

I must look horrified, because Dumbledore gives me a sympathetic look.

"I will _not sit through a months worth of sixth year classes." I say. "If necessary, you can send Potter's work to my rooms, I'll tutor him myself." _

"I'm staying in your rooms, then?" Harry asks, his voice oddly without inflection.

I snort.

"I'm certainly not staying in the gryffindor dormitories to be gawked at by a bunch of adolescents." I say with a mental shudder.

Dumbledore claps his hands together.

"Good, now that you have that settled, would you like your things moved down to the dungeons?" 

A look of, is that guilt? Fear? Passes Harry's eyes.

"No thank you. I can do it myself." Harry looks at me. "That is, if Professor Snape doesn't mind."

I throw up my hands. 

"We might as well get used to moving together. Lead the way, Potter." 

            *                      *                      *                      *

Here's the newest chapter! Sorry it took me so long, but I do have a baby to look after. ^-^


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